"I'm sorry – you need me to what…?"
"Take the asset out of the freezer and start reconditioning her," he repeats with the quite the annoyed I-know-you-heard-me-the-first-time-and-you're-just-wasting-my-time-asking-me-to-repeat-it expression.
Now this would be the perfect moment to remind him of several facts, mainly that this is not even close to my area of expertise…
"Has anyone seen my dad…?" comes a voice from around waist height then, forcing us both to look down to locate the source of the interruption. The interruption I was secretly hoping for, but... Yeah, in my imagination it didn't have the form of about the most heartbreaking thing one can see in a secret Hydra facility.
It's one thing to sell your soul for research funds – something I can hardly judge anyone for since I've made that horrible, life-threatening decision myself. But to then actually pull this bring-your-daughter-to-work-day thing is just a whole new level of messed up. I might be no expert but no way are babysitters so hard to find…
"He's in his lab," says my supervisor dismissively, sending the girl on her way with an angry gesture indicating the direction.
"She knew that. He's always in the lab. She only asked us because she's so desperate for human contact she's actually willing to talk to certifiably insane scientists of our caliber."
"Your point…?" he replies, obviously not seeing what that has to do with anything.
"You know… The fact you're not seeing it is really speaking volumes."
"Are you really trying to claim the moral high ground? You have been here longer than me," he reminds. Just to be an asshole, which is very much in character for him. "Now go get her out of the freezer and start making her a useful part of this organization."
"Yeah. Sure. I'll just do that," I say, making a face. "I'll do some science at her until she's all compliant and ready to do our bidding without reservations. You do know that as developed as our techniques are we're not perfect. I mean… That is what you got out of the fact that the posterboy for Hydra brainwashing snapped out of his programming and is now at liberty. Because that's what I got from that story. Quite the punchline," I add with a smile that is obviously a little too innocent for his liking. Well, tough. The day I start caring about sparing his feelings will be the day I might as well turn into a proper, cackling, openly unhinged mad scientist...
"That," he replies, staring daggers at me, "is why we need to do something about our roster of operatives. Activating her is a direct consequence of the loss of the… Winter Soldier," he finishes. In a tone that makes it clear he always found that particular nickname as over the top as most of the scientific staff around here did.
"Can't wait to hear what ridiculous nickname we'll be assigning her," I mutter as I turn on the heel and head for the elevator. Because what he calls the freezer is a couple of floors bellow, appropriately enough. Where else you keep the monsters…?
I stop though, just before entering it and turn to the little girl I know is still loitering around, since her plan never was to locate her father. She really just wanted to talk. To have someone acknowledge her existence...
"Hey, kid…? Do you feel like having a ghost of Christmas yet to come moment…?" I say to her. Obviously catching her by surprise.
"Does this have something to do with muppets?" she frowns, visibly confused.
I snort even as it's further proof this is one hell of a sad situation. Because of course she immediately thought of muppets rather than Dickens and his heavy-handed, in-your-face moral lesson about being a decent person. She would. Because she's twelve…
"What I mean is… Do you ever think about the future? What you're going to become – and how is that person being shaped by all this…?" I ask, immediately seeing that those questions are a little too existential for her to just take in her stride. "What I'm trying to say is… I used to be like you. My mom brought me to creepy secret labs. I missed out on almost everything a childhood should be and then, before I knew it, I was wearing a labcoat and being ordered around by carrier psychopaths who treat people like weapons and don't see the problem with your father bringing you here. Are you getting what I'm trying to say?"
"Maybe," she says, her already serious expression growing more grim by the second.
"I don't know if you have any family out there, but… If there's anyone who can take you in, you better start working on making that happen. You can't count on your father here. He's too busy trying to stare the universe into submission with brief breaks for naively thinking his research can't be eventually weaponized…"
"Mom doesn't really have the time…" she says, looking away rather than finishing that sentence. Which is saying it all and somehow making this even sadder.
I sigh.
"So both of your parents are self-obsessed assholes," I say, making her eyes go big at my choice of language and involuntarily giggle at the same time. "That's tough. And unfair and I'm sorry. But if that's the situation you're stuck in, well… Go with the safer option for now. In a few years you'll be old enough to sue them for emancipation. Right now the priority is getting out of here. This is no place for you. Not because every single person here is dangerous in their own psychotic way but because… Well, experiments go wrong. Labs blow up," I add, pulling up my sleeve to briefly show her some of my more gruesome burns from the last workplace I had to vacate in a hurry. "Hydra doesn't care. They think in numbers, not lives. But, kid… this is the only life you're ever gonna get. If you don't fight to protect it no one else will."
Which is where I stop myself. This is obviously too much of a reality check. No one else would have told her this and she needed to hear it – which doesn't change the fact I feel like a monster for going there.
"You're right," she says and she sounds very young just then. "I was going to ask him if I could go back… But…"
"You don't want to have that conversation because it's going to hurt. Because it's one thing to suspect he will barely notice you're gone and another thing completely to have it confirmed."
She nods, now blinking back tears. To her credit she does keep that outburst of very understandable emotions at bay. When she turns to face me again she looks like someone willing to do the hard thing.
"Getting out of here is the best thing you can do for yourself," I say, again. More because it's more something I need to say than something she needs to hear, since I obviously already sold her on the whole self-preservation first thing.
"Did you really used to be like me…?" she asks then. "Or is that just something you..."
"I was nothing like you, kid," I interrupt, though I do try to smile to soften the words. "I had the run of top-secret labs since age four. So… you know… your dad might not be the worst. There are worse parents out there. And I had a double dose of those. Think Victor Frankenstein level of I don't give a fuck about the natural order, I do what I want…"
"You swear a lot," she grimaces. I just shrug in a it's a coping mechanism way.
"Oh, this is nothing. Come check on me after I've woken up the Russian sociopath they want me to make fully operational… I'll be showing off my vocabulary to its fullest extent by the time I'm done with her. Or she with me," I say, making a face even as it dawns on me that that was definitely in the shouldn't-be-telling-this-to-a-twelve-year-old territory.
"What?" she grins.
"Oh, you know - something that makes me a truly terrible person. So go win me back some good karma points and get your father to put you on the first flight out of here," I say before pushing the elevator button again and strategically retreating from this conversation. I do wink at her through the closing door, though, just to hear her laugh that pure, joyous laughter only children can manage.
This would be the perfect time to start wondering if I ever laughed like that, but I can do without the existential crisis that would inevitably lead to. Besides – I have work to do…
"Mainly figuring out what do I even call you… Ida… Dorothy… unpronounceable Russian name we're not even sure was what they called you before the Red Room took you…" I say under my breath, frowning down at the file before looking over at the cryogenic coffin. "That alone is gonna be one long conversation, isn't it…?"
In the end, though, it doesn't take all that long.
"Dottie," she says sleepily.
"Do you know where you are, Dottie…?" I say, forcing a smile because this is about to only get worse from here and I might as well try to seem a friendly face.
"No," she says, still seeming unfocused.
I tell her.
Her expression changes abruptly – the sleepiness that appears to have been an act to make her seem harmless is gone completely. Replaced by anger and just a flicker of fear in her eyes, gone in a heartbeat.
It's too late though - I've seen it now. I know the secret. She still has the capacity to fear. "Would you like me to tell you what year it is…?" I ask.
"No," she says and her voice shakes almost imperceptibly.
But I'm the evil scientist here and she's merely the subject and therefore not allowed to have a preference. So I tell her anyway.
Things only get worse from there…